


Bad Judge of Character

by DrSallySparrow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M, The Grinch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 05:36:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9057988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrSallySparrow/pseuds/DrSallySparrow
Summary: I WROTE A MAD THING BECAUSE OLIVIE WANTED ME TO.Seriously, an alarming amount of the dialogue for this came from "How the Grinch Stole Christmas." Which also inspired this story. Hurrah.Merry Christmas y'all. Love you Olivie, you mad beautiful moonbeam.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [olivieblake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivieblake/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [underthemistletoe](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/underthemistletoe) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  Tom Riddle is the Grinch who stole Christmas. "You're a mean one, Mr. Riddle." He smiled, teeth flashing. "So I've heard."
> 
> The characters are taken from Harry Potter - an original work by J K Rowling for which I can claim no credit.

She’d heard of him of course - everyone had. It seemed the less that he was seen the more his legend grew, until he seemed to be more of a story than a man.

  
_Hates Christmas, that Tom Riddle._

  
_Miserable bastard he is, shut away up on that mountain._

  
“Dad,” she asked, the year she turned sixteen. "I just don't understand something. Why does Tom Riddle hate Christmas?"

"You kids and Tom Riddle, eh?” Arthur grinned down at her from where he stood at the top of a ladder, trying to charm pixies to stick to the guttering. “Your brothers were in trouble with the Minister just last week for playing pranks up on Mount Horcrux."

"But why?” Ginny pressed, bored of hearing about Fred and George’s antics.

“Well,” Arthur began, then paused, frowning, as he considered his answer. Taking advantage of his distraction, one of the pixies made a bid for freedom.

  
“Fucking BALLS,” Arthur swore, apparently forgetting that he was at the top of a ladder and lunging towards the errant creature with his wand extended. Ginny sighed, flicking her wand lazily to cast a cushioning charm as her father crashed to the floor, and wandering away.

* * *

She knew the way, of course - everyone did. Up the winding path that climbed Mount Horcrux, through the snow and the wind towards the distant peak. She found the door, cut into the mountainside, and knocked (for she had been brought up properly) but finding it open, Ginny stepped inside.

  
She could hear the noise of distant muttering, and the occasional crash as (by the sound of things) someone flung delicate objects against a stone wall.

  
“Hello?” Ginny called, and heard another, louder crash and then a sudden silence.

  
She rounded a corner and emerged into a large, brightly-lit space in which a complicated potions lab seemed to have been set up.

  
Ginny stepped forward, frowning at an alembic where a deep green liquid bubbled. The hairs raised up the back of her neck and she spun to find a man standing close behind her.

  
He had blue-black hair, skin as pale as the snow that fell outside, and eyes the deep navy of a midnight sky.

  
“You're -” Ginny stuttered. “You're - you're -”

  
“Uh -” he sneered, “Uh - Tom Riddle?”

  
“Yes!” Ginny squeaked, clapping a hand over her mouth with embarrassment at the sound.

  
“Oh,” he laughed softly, gentle lines creasing the skin around his eyes. “What is _this_?”

  
“I'm,” Ginny stammered, “I'm, um, Ginny - I mean Ginevra - Weasley.”

  
“Weasley,” he repeated thoughtfully, stepping away from her and pulling a book from a nearby shelf. Ginny caught sight of the cover of _Nott’s_ _Pure_ - _blood_ _Directory_ as Riddle flipped through the pages to the back of the book.

  
“Weasley…” he murmured, one finger moving across the page. "Weasley...Sweet fucking Salazar," he swore, his voice filled with disbelief. " _What_ is this endless proliferation of procreation?" He moved his finger further down, his lip curling with distaste.

"Arthur Weasley,” he said, eyes flicking up to Ginny, “I _hate_ you. _Bill_ Weasley,” his mouth lifting into a smirk, “I hate _you_. Charlie, Fred, George. Hate, hate, _hate_.” He was openly smiling now, and in spite of his words Ginny found herself starting to grin too as he continued. “Molly, Percy, Ron. Hate hate...what's this?” Tom raised his eyes to her again, dark humour dancing in their navy depths. “ _Ginevra_?” he murmured, lips pursing, “Oh my.”

  
Tom paused, eyeing her, then enunciated softly: “Double hate. Loathe _entirely_.”

  
“Really?” Ginny breathed, reaching out, with a boldness that was astonishing even to herself, to draw a finger across the triangle of flesh revealed by his open collar.

  
“Hmm,” Tom rumbled, pressing his lips together and eyeing her closely. “What do you want?”

  
“Mr Riddle,” she started, then paused to suck in a breath as he brushed the back of his hand over her temple. Ginny closed her eyes, swallowed hard. “I came to invite you to our Christmas party,” she said, the words coming out in a rush. “I know you hate Christmas, but what if it's just a misunderstanding?”

  
“A misunderstanding?” he echoed. “Is that what you think?”

  
They stared at one another for a long moment, and then he started to laugh.

  
“You're a mean one, Mr. Riddle,” Ginny scowled up at him.

  
“Oh Ginevra,” he smiled, teeth flashing. "So I've heard."

  
“Funny thing is,” Ginny said, almost to herself as she eyed him contemplatively, “I _could_ believe that you're almost...sweet...underneath it all.”

  
His eyebrows quirked, the corners of his mouth lifting to match, as he watched her trip down the mountain path.

  
“Nice kid,” Tom muttered to himself. “Bad judge of character.”

* * *

She thought he'd stay away - everyone did. But she saw the long bolt of his shadow haunting the edges of the crowd that had gathered on Christmas Eve, and found herself pushing her way towards him through the throng.

  
“Mr Riddle!” she called brightly, scarcely noticing the way that bodies turned around her, whispers starting to leap from mouth to mouth. His eyes skittered around the gathered people, his face taut and tense.

  
“This was a mistake,” he said, turning away as she reached him, though his hand closed around her wrist.

  
“But Mr Riddle,” she protested softly, “this is - it's Christmas.”

  
“Oh,” he huffed, “ _Christmas_.”

  
“Yes,” Ginny said, dropping her voice as he pulled her further away from the crowd. “I mean, come on, Mr - come on _Tom_.” She batted her eyes at him, ignoring the tension in his face. “What does Christmas mean to you?”

  
He glanced down at her, then his eyes lifted to someone across the square. “Vengeance,” he growled, and Ginny couldn't suppress her giggle.

  
“That's absurd,” she said.

  
“Is it?” he replied, dropping her arm and stepping away.

  
“Wait -” she caught his hand, and found herself abruptly tugged along as he disapparated.

* * *

She knew he was powerful - everyone did. But Ginny hadn't expected the breathless speed, the shocking tug of his magic.

  
“Merlin’s tits,” he swore, stumbling as they landed together in his cave. “Almost lost my cool there,” he growled, glaring at her and smoothing a hand across his slightly dishevelled hair.

  
“Did you?” she asked, her hand following his.

  
He looked at her, a long, slow, looking, that stripped her bare and made her raw. “Ginevra.” Her name was a whisper, a breath, a prayer that fell hopelessly from his mouth. “What are you doing?”

“No one should be alone at Christmas,” she replied, not daring to move as he stepped towards her.

"Little girl," Tom whispered, his fingers gliding along the line of her jaw and pulling her face to his. “How dare you enter here?" He brought his lips to her ear. "The audacity," he whispered, "The unmitigated _gall_."

  
Ginny shivered as his hand trailed over her shoulder, as his breath ghosted over her cheek. "Did you think that you would gaze into the face of fear?" he murmured.

She swallowed, feeling her heart throwing itself against her ribs, the hairs rising on the back of her neck. She closed her eyes, turned her mouth towards his. "I'm not scared," she breathed.

Tom laughed, his arms winding tightly around her. "Denial is to be expected in the face of pure evil," he said, his lips brushing hers. When she didn't move, she felt the smile move across his mouth. “Thanks for saving me,” he whispered.

  
“Is that what you think that was?” Ginny laughed gently, tasting his breath on her tongue.

His nose drew a line against hers, his tongue flicking over her lips. “I've got you, now, Ginevra.”

“You have,” she agreed.


End file.
